


Follow Him

by LittleSpacePrince



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny Steve, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 04:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10528836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpacePrince/pseuds/LittleSpacePrince
Summary: “When do you have to go?” Steve whispered.“Two weeks.”Steve nodded, lip quivering. Fourteen days. Fourteen days, and then all of this would be over. Bucky would march off to war.“I'll follow you there.” Steve whispered.





	

Bucky was late…

Again.

It wasn’t unlike him, not at all, and Steve rarely ever got particularly annoyed with him over it. But tonight was one of the coldest nights of the year, and the fire in the fireplace wasn’t doing much, and his tattered flannel blanket was hardly protecting from the cold. He sat shivering, tugging the blanket tighter to himself as he watched the door, waiting for it to open, trying to will it to open, figuring that if he stared long enough, maybe Bucky would magically appear, preferably with hot chocolate in one hand.

Steve found himself daydreaming about it as he pulled his knees in tighter to his chest, teeth chattering, the noise rivalling the crackle of the fireplace as he sat there, fingers going numb. Not an uncommon occurrence, given that he barely weighed ninety pounds and his blood circulation was hardly the greatest. He pretended Bucky’s arms were wrapped tightly around him, creating some warmth between them, the heat of his breath on his ears, arms protectively around him as they slept in a tangled mess of sheets, Steve resisting the urge to melt into his touch and lying stiff as a board as not to poke him with bony knees or elbows, but still content in Bucky’s protective grasp… 

Of course, it took another twenty minutes before the door finally did swing open, Bucky dusting off his boots and hurrying in from the cold, the blizzard outside raging. No wonder he’d been late. There were no cabs out in this weather. He would have had to walk through the snow. Suddenly, Steve felt a lot more grateful for his friend. Though, not quite grateful enough to keep him from cursing him for being so damn late. 

“Get your a-ass over here.” Steve called through chattering teeth. 

Bucky chuckled to himself as he shrugged off his coat and dusted the rest of the snow off of him. He loved the kid, always had, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, and Steve always knew how to make him smile, even without intending it. He hung his hat and headed toward the bedroom where Steve lay shivering, fireplace roaring in the corner. The room had originally been intended to be a den, but Steve was so prone to getting sick in the winters that they converted it into a bedroom instead of letting him freeze to death. But even with the roaring fireplace, Steve usually needed him to come over, hold him while he slept, keep him warm. 

Not that it was a task that Bucky cared to fulfill. 

He and Steve had been best friends since Bucky was in the first grade and Steve was in kindergarten. Steve had been significantly smaller than the other kids, giving the others quite the opportunity to come around and beat the shit out of him. Steve had gotten in his third fight in the past week when Bucky finally came over and broke it up. From there, their friendship had blossomed into this, though Bucky hardly considered it just _friendship_ anymore.

He was in love with Steve Rogers.

He didn’t want to admit it to anyone, not even himself, knowing what it meant. He was a sinner, bound to burn in hell, and there was no way in hell that Steve could ever love him back in that way. Steve was a good kid, had always been a good kid. Save for the no-less-than-forty-two-fights-a-week quota that he never failed to make, he’d always been a sweet kid, a straight-shooter most of the time, always honest and good-hearted and god-fearing… 

Bucky feared god too, but not in the same way. Bucky cowered in fear and waited for his almighty hand to smite him. 

He supposed that was what made this all so hard. His days sleeping in the same bed as Steve Rogers were numbered, and he had nothing to show for it. He’d had the honor of holding Steve all these years, from holding him when he cried from a scraped up knee because one of the older boys pushed him down, to wrapping him up in his arms and holding him as they lowered his mom’s body into her grave, to this. Sleeping in his bed, the boy sleeping rigid next to him in an attempt to save him the pain of bony limbs, though he still always managed to wake up arms wrapped around the older boy’s waist… The memories would keep him warm at night, sure, but when he was getting shot by Nazis, when he was watching the end of the world and smoke-filled skies were his only company as he drifted off to sleep for the last time, there would always be that regret for not doing anything.

James Buchanan Barnes had gotten drafted. He was shipping out in two weeks. 

Steve pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders as Bucky stepped into the room, looking pale and tired and quiet, like he’d seen a ghost. He looked… Sad. Weird. Usually, he came in with a joke and a hug, a kiss on the temple sometimes, small gestures that filled the room with life, but this time, he didn’t say much of anything, keeping quiet as he pulled off his coat and scarf and tossed them into the leather, overstuffed chair. That much was normal, but he was so silent that it left the room feeling cold, gray, like something bad had happened.

“Buck? You okay?” Steve inquired quietly. 

Bucky turned to the smaller man. He looked cold, and sick, and tired, but mostly concerned. Like all of the problems that he had, the health problems, the fact that he was about to be well and truly alone for the first time in his life and the fact that he didn’t even know it yet, like none of it mattered because Bucky was upset. Steve had always put Bucky first, ahead of himself, for which Bucky had always assured him that there was nothing to worry about, that he needed to worry about himself first, but… 

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…” Bucky started, trying to deflect, but it was futile and he knew it. Steve knew him like he knew the back of his hand, and could see through him like glass. There was no hiding anything from that punk. “I need to tell you something.” 

He couldn’t hide it. He’d be gone in a couple of weeks and Steve deserved to know. He had to know. In a few weeks, no one would be there to hold him, to keep him safe against the cold, to laugh at all his jokes, to try and help find him girls… Bucky had always been there, and Steve had never actually been alone before now. They would both be alone for the first time in their lives, and the days were ticking by quickly. Bucky needed to tell him.

But as he turned to the smaller man, those baby blue eyes staring expectantly up at him, full of worry and concern for whatever the hell was going on here, Bucky decided that there were bigger secrets that needed to come to light first. The war, the draft, it wasn’t going anywhere. But there were things that needed to come to light before any of it. Bucky was going out to the battlefield, marching proudly to his death, and he needed to make sure that there was something back home worth dying for.

“I love you.” 

He hadn’t meant to say it like that. There should have been more of a buildup. It should have been more romantic, it should have been more than that, but it came out anyways. Just those three words, short and simple and to the point. There was no beating around the bush, no lead up to it, it just came out. And he meant every single word, every single syllable, every single letter. Bucky Barnes was in love with Steve Rogers. 

“I love you, too, Buck.” Steve whispered. 

He didn’t know why Bucky was staring at him like that, or why he said it like the fate of the world depended on it. Of course he loved Bucky, and they had never been particularly quiet about it. Those three words slipped into their banter, or whispered whenever Steve was in the floor vomiting… Of course they loved each other, they had grown up together. But the look of hope in Bucky’s eyes, the warm blue-green eyes lighting up at the soul behind them seemed to soar… Something was different.

“Really?” Bucky whispered, voice cracking.

He had expected rejection, to be thrown out of the house for his sins, and he knew that he would have deserved it. Homosexuals were looked down upon, the scum of society, freaks and sick, though Bucky never fully understood why, exactly. What the hell on earth could be wrong or disgusting about _love?_ That’s all that it was. It wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t wrong. It was just… Love. The same as when a man loved a woman, no different. Love was just… Love. 

And Steve loved him back. Steve Rogers, the punk kid that he had been crushing on since he was twelve, the boy that he had fantasized about for years and years now, the kid that he had been so in love with… Steve Rogers loved him back. 

“Of course, I love you, Buck, you’re my best friend, you’re like my brother.” Steve continued.

Everything shattered inside of him, heart breaking in his chest. Of course. Just a brother, just a friend, nothing more. How could it ever be anything more? Bucky supposed that he should have known, and cursed himself for letting his hopes get so high. He was stupid, and wrong, and disgusting, and…

Shit. Crying. 

Steve watched as his friend struggled to swipe away tears before anyone had the chance to see them, though ultimately failing. A pang of sadness rippled through Steve’s bones as he watched his friend cry. Steve had never seen Bucky cry before right then. Bucky didn’t cry. Bucky had always been strong, stronger than anyone that Steve had ever met, tough as nails for him. His shoulders were shaking and ragged sobs were ripped from his throat when Steve realized what he’d meant. 

“Buck…” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m fine, I’m sorry.” He stammered, turning toward the door. He couldn’t stay. He knew that he needed to, needed to be here to keep Steve warm, but Bucky was shipping out to die soon. The kid needed to learn how to live without him, because the good lord knew that he wasn’t coming home. “It’s stupid, I’m sorry, I love you too, Steve, I’m fine, I just… It’s nothing, it’s nothing.” He struggled to reassure, struggled to make it seem like he was okay, but he had never been further. 

“You’re in love with me.” Steve murmured.

A ragged sob was ripped from Bucky’s throat as he struggled to keep himself upright, knowing that he was going to collapse soon. He didn’t want Steve to see him so broken. They had known each other for so long, and Bucky had always been the one to stay strong, had always been Steve’s rock. He had never asked for anything other than friendship in return, but now he was falling apart for the first time. He regretted saying anything, knowing now that his last memory of Steve Rogers would be this. Running home through the snow, embarrassed and brokenhearted… He should’ve known better. He had known that Steve could never love him back like that, it had been stupid to think so.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I’ll leave, I’m sorry.” He sputtered out, hurrying toward the door.

“Wait.” Steve protested, voice stern enough to get Bucky to turn back to him, eyes red and watering, lip quivering as he struggled to keep himself together. He had never seen Bucky like this, and hated to see the man that he loved in so much pain.

Steve Rogers didn’t run. He got out of breath too easily, his legs struggled to hold him upright after awhile, he wasn’t very fast anyways. He remembered the embarrassment as he tripped over his own feet when he tried to keep up with the other boys running around the schoolyard, and promised himself that he would never run again. He had vowed to himself years ago to never run from anything, to stand any fight, and usually, that just meant not running, period. But, for the first time in years, Steve ran. Not away from something, but right toward it.

Bucky caught the younger man as he ran into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around him as Steve pulled him down, claiming his lips and tugging him close. The kiss was salty and wet and full of passion and years of pent up emotion. Bucky’s hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him as close as he could possibly get, closer than they had ever been in their lives. It was like they were two halves of one whole, fitting perfectly together, just as they always had been. 

Steve Rogers loved him back. And suddenly, the gray world that he’d been living in for years now lit up with color, vibrant and loud and all-consuming and real, oh so real. Steve Rogers, the straight-shooter, the good Christian boy, the sweet kid that he had known all these years… He was casting away the idea of sin, the idea of good and bad, for the sake of love. Steve Rogers loved him back. Steve Rogers loved him. 

Oh, that was never going to get old. 

Steve wrapped his arms tighter around his neck, standing on tiptoes as he held tight to his Bucky. He had never allowed himself to think that way, had been pushing down thoughts and feelings for years now. Ever since high school, he’d been repressing everything, holding everything in because he figured that Bucky would never love him like that, never want him like that. Bucky had always liked girls, had always been good with them. He took them out dancing, took them on dates, kissed them, slept with them… But out of all the girls that he could have had, Bucky chose Steve. Bucky chose Steve over and over again. 

“I love you. I love you, I love you, oh, I love you.” Steve murmured as Bucky’s lips left his, hands cupping his hands beneath his thighs and hoisting him up, pushing him against the wall, lips pressing against his neck. Steve could feel the older man’s erection pressing against him, hardened length pressing between his thighs as Bucky pushed him against the wall. Steve let out a whimpered moan as his own cock began to harden, his skin growing warm with each kiss. 

This was how he wanted to spend his life, every day of his life spent right here, wrapped up in Steve’s embrace, the taste of him on his tongue, the two of them so utterly and entirely infatuated.. Bucky suddenly cursed himself for not telling him sooner, wishing that they had more time, leaving them stuck with two weeks. Two damn weeks. But he pushed it out of his head, forcing himself to live in the moment as he held his lover. This was the first and last chance that they would have to do this. 

“Let me have you. Please, please, angel, let me have you just like this. I’ve wanted this for so long, I love you so much, please, please, please Steve.” Bucky whispered murmured pleas between kisses, grinding himself up against the smaller man. He wanted him, needed him, needed to feel every single inch of him. He wanted to memorize every single inch of skin, taste every piece of him… He wanted it, needed it… He needed to feel Steve’s body against him.

“Please. Please, Buck… Want you.” Steve whimpered. He wanted it. He had forced his quiet desires down as far as he could, refusing to let them be seen in the light of day, always pushing them out of his head, but there were so many things that he wanted to do to Bucky, things he wanted Bucky to do to him, ways that he wanted to be cradled and touched and held and fucked. He had repressed everything for so long, thinking that there was no chance that Bucky Barnes, notorious womanizer Bucky Barnes, could ever want him. 

Bucky pulled him closer and hoisted him onto the bed, letting the boy bounce onto the mattress before climbing over him, straddling his legs and claiming his lips again. He couldn’t stand a second apart from him, lest his angel freeze, holding him close, his skin heating against the cold. He was beautiful, perfect, wonderful, everything that Bucky had ever wanted, had ever needed. He was in love with Steve Rogers. 

Bucky let out a quiet moan against the boy’s lips as he rubbed himself up against his thigh, erection painful in his pants. Steve’s was even more obvious, rock hard and poking against his belly. 

The bigger man struggled with Steve’s pants. He tugged them down, pushing them down around his ankles without a moment of hesitation, unable to wait a second longer. He needed to feel heated skin against heated skin, every inch of Steve against him, every bit. He wanted him. He needed him. He had dreamt of this very moment for years, and now it was finally here. Steve, sprawled beneath him, kissing him, squirming beneath him… 

Steve’s fingers reached down between them. The cold exploded over his lower half, though Bucky draped over him, legs tangled through his, immediately warmed him back up. The warmth spreading through his body as he wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist was warmer than anything he could have hoped for. Hotter than fire, hotter than the sun. He felt naked, raw, vulnerable, and it was strange, but it was what he had dreamt about for so long, and it was all that he could ask for. 

Bucky tore down his own pants as quickly as he could, wanting to be skin-against-skin with Steve as quickly as possible, wanting to feel his body pressed against every inch of him. Not pulling away from Steve’s lips, he reached down, wrapping a hand around his own cock, leveling himself against the smaller man’s. Steve wasn’t very big, nothing being very big about that boy, but Bucky didn’t mind. He was perfect the way he was. 

Steve bucked into his touch. He was a virgin, had never even touched himself, had always been good. So Bucky’s touch, the shocks of electricity that jolted through him as Bucky’s hands cupped over his length, the quickening of his heart that came with the velvety slide of Bucky’s foreskin against his… Steve couldn’t breathe, letting out a sharp whine against Bucky’s lips, eyes squeezing shut and nails digging into his skin. 

Bucky shuddered as he curled his fingers tight around their cocks, circling them together and holding tight, setting a steady pace with each stroke. His breath came in heavy pants as Steve moaned beneath him, the younger man’s eyes shut tight and fingers squeezing hard around his arms, like he was holding on for dear life. Bucky buried his face into the crook of his neck, taking him in. The scent of him, the way that his skin felt against his, memorizing each breathy moan and jerky thrust into his hand, imprinting the feeling of him into his memory, telling himself that he would never forget this very moment. 

“Feels so good. Close, Bucky. ‘m getting close.” Steve breathed. He could feel himself nearing the brink, though what of he wasn’t quite sure what he was growing close to. He could feel it building up inside of him, ready to explode at any given moment, like a timer ticking ever faster. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, breathing hitched as he trembled from the force of this pleasure. He'd never felt anything like this before, never felt anything so _intense…_

Bucky’s lips grazed against the smaller man’s neck, holding him tight, pulling him closer. Bucky could feel Steve’s balls drawing up, and judging by the his heaving chest, his moans growing louder with each stroke. He wondered if Steve had ever even had an orgasm. Steve had always been such a good boy, and Bucky knew that he was a virgin. As for masturbation, Bucky wasn't sure, but given how quickly he was about to come, he suspected not. Though Bucky was getting just as close as him, even if he wasn't a virgin. Something about the intimacy of it all had him drawing closer and closer and closer. 

“Love you. Love you, love you, love you.” Bucky vowed, and oh he did. 

It was the warmth of Bucky’s breath brushing against his ear that finally pushed him over the edge. He let out a sharp cry, back arching sharply as his eyes whited out at the edges. He let out a loud cry, clinging tight to Bucky was his voice echoed through the room, trembling with the force of his orgasm. There was nothing like this, nothing that could compare, pleasure beyond anything that he had ever known. It felt so good, and it was all because of Bucky. It was all because Bucky Barnes loved him. 

When Steve came down, Bucky’s eyes were rolled back in his head, mouth hung open as he moaned. The smaller man's body skin was hot and sticky, getting even hotter and stickier as Bucky came all over him, thick, white fluid all over them. 

Bucky collapsed over him and forced all thoughts out of his head. He forgot about the draft, the fact that he had to leave in two weeks, would have to leave this bed and let go. Let go. God, he didn't want to let go yet. Instead, he clung tighter. Kissing his neck, suckling bruises into the pale skin. Their cocks softened between them, and Bucky slowly curled his arms around the smaller man before rolling over, pulling Steve on top of him so that they were laying together beneath flannel blankets sticky and hot and sleepy and content. 

Steve felt tears welling in his eyes. This should have been euphoric, a moment that he had been dreaming of for years now. This should have been happy. This should have been the best moment of his life, the turning point for them. But instead, he knew what was happening. The timing was too perfect, and Bucky would never have confessed any other way. 

“You got drafted.” Steve whispered. 

“I'm sorry.” Bucky squeaked. 

Steve’s eyes burned as he let out a ragged sob. Bucky was leaving. Bucky was going to leave him, go off to war, walk off to the frontlines and get shot and killed. This, everything that he has wanted for so long, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. He wrapped his arms tighter around Bucky, burying his face deep into his chest, tears staining against his skin. 

Bucky’s heart shattered as Steve cried into him. He hadn't wanted to tell him yet, had wanted to wait until the morning, but Steve was too damn smart for him. And now he was sobbing, the two of them laying with tears staining their cheeks. This was what hell must have felt like. Burning down with the devil. 

“When do you have to go?” Steve whispered. 

“Two weeks.” 

Steve nodded, lip quivering. Fourteen days. Fourteen days, and then all of this would be over. Bucky would march off to war.

“I'll follow you there.” Steve whispered. 

“Steve, don't you fucking dare, I won't let you get yourself ki-” 

“I'm following you there, Buck. I'm coming with you. I'm protecting you.” 

Bucky wanted to protest, but there was no changing his mind. Instead, he bit his lip and nodded, wrapping his arms tighter around Steve’s skinny shoulders, pressing his lips against the top of his head. He never wanted to let him go, holding him tightly and refusing to let him slip through his fingers, refusing to let him become a ghost. Morning would come and he would have to let him go, march off to war and pray to whatever was in heaven that they wouldn't let him follow. But for tonight, he held on as tight as he could.


End file.
